Kevin Ash

Kevin Ash, who has died aged 53, was for 15 years the motorcycling
correspondent of The Daily Telegraph, bringing readers an unrivalled
expertise and converting many into armchair, or even actual, bikers.

Kevin Ash

6:38PM GMT 23 Jan 2013

A great number of the latter were of the “born again” variety – middle-aged men who had dabbled with motorcycles in their youth but then put them aside, only to be fired with enthusiasm by Ash’s columns and coaxed back into the saddle. For though he was a fearsomely talented rider himself, Ash was never condescending about the weekend amateur. Indeed, in the 1990s he presciently foresaw the coming popularity of leisure biking, and his rise through motoring journalism coincided with the rise of that trend.

To those new or long-lost bikers baffled by the often nerdish complexities of modern motorcycling terminology, he provided guidance and succour. He knew which bikes readers should or would be interested in, and those that they could forget. Such clarity and broad appeal drew in even those who knew they would never kick-start anything more powerful than a lawnmower.

For Ash himself, however, such vicarious thrill-seeking would never suffice. He always, relentlessly, wanted to be in the saddle, and had done from his earliest years.

Kevin Charles Ash was born on December 10 1959 in Ilford, Essex, to Margaret and Dennis Ash. His father worked in insurance and, after his parents moved to Suffolk, Kevin won a scholarship to Ipswich School.

From the outset his overriding passion was for cars and motorcycles. As a boy he acquired a scooter on which he suffered countless scrapes. Accordingly the machine was perpetually being taken apart and repaired. Naturally enough, when Ash went up to Imperial College, London, it was to study Engineering.

But the constant lure of machines, allied to a new-found pleasure in writing, meant he did not finish his degree. Instead he applied his mechanical skills to a succession of beaten-up old Citroens which he nursed back from the scrap heap, swapping engines from one into another, scavenging for parts among clapped-out models.

He also dabbled in sidecar racing, with Andy Holmes, venturing out on Lydden circuit. But his day job was as a motorcycle courier, for the company Point-to-Point, run by Colin Schiller, a fellow bike enthusiast. And when Schiller launched Fast Bikes magazine, Ash got his break in journalism, becoming a central part of the reporting team.

After his marriage in 1990, Ash scaled back his racing, instead juggling the courier work with writing for Fast Bikes until, having gained sufficient experience of magazine production, he applied for a post at Motorcycle News (MCN), a weekly with unrivalled influence in British biking.

He landed a role as one of two road testers, only to be almost immediately promoted when his colleague suffered a serious accident. It left Ash in a position of almost peerless influence: his reviews for MCN could make or break the launch of a new bike.

It was a dream job, but he was too good at it, and as his talent became clear, the magazine sought to promote him into an editorial role that left him less time to ride bikes. Unsuited to an office, Ash began casting around for new opportunities. Discreetly, he approached The Daily Telegraph.

As he was still at MCN, his first article for the paper appeared under a pseudonym. Then, in 1997, he took the fearless decision to go freelance, leaving the comfort of his salaried role to regain the freedom to ride that he cherished. As the Telegraph sought to expand its motoring coverage, motorcycling became a crucial part of the package, and Ash quickly cemented his relationship with the paper.

He was widely accepted as the motorcycling correspondent long before the role was made formal in 2001. By then his passionate, accessible journalism was winning plaudits. In particular, readers responded to one article he wrote in 1998 about importing an Alfa Romeo from the Netherlands. Outraged by high vehicle prices in “rip-off” Britain, he saved himself £5,000 in the process. A handy guide he wrote to the thicket of red tape he had encountered – Going Dutch – became a minor bestseller.

His fearlessness extended from customs officers to motorcycle manufacturers. On occasion Suzuki and BMW griped about his reviews, and he was once even barred by Triumph. But his judgments were measured, and almost always borne out.

On the road he was highly-skilled, noted for looking five or six cars ahead to spot trouble. He even had a habit of looking into the wing mirrors of vehicles in front, to see if the driver was also examining it, and so contemplating a sudden turn. On the track, meanwhile, Ash could be very quick, for like many bikers, he did love speed.

Once, asked to introduce Erin Baker, now the Telegraph’s Head of Motoring, to motorcycles, he selected what was then the world’s most powerful bike. With his passenger on pillion, he reached 156mph on the M11. But such escapades were the exception, for he was not a tearaway. He was just as happy cruising across America, along Route 66, on a fat Harley-Davidson, as he did for one of the last pieces he wrote.

Such special trips were part of the reason he loved the job. Habitually positive, he would often announce his return with the phrase: “That was the best bike ever!” But it was not clear whether he actually had a favourite bike. Though he rode many, he owned only one – a vast fluorescent yellow-green BMW, which had formed part of the police honour guard at the marriage of the Prince of Wales to Lady Diana Spencer, and whose restoration he was planning to write about for the paper.

He was on another road test, this time in South Africa, when he was involved in the accident that killed him.

Kevin Ash married, in 1990, Caroline Quanjer, whom he met at Imperial College’s motorcycle club. She survives him with their three daughters.